


Talking Does Wonders For Ones Happiness

by stilinski_wolf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post Break-up, presumed cheating but no cheating actually happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 17:04:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7540825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilinski_wolf/pseuds/stilinski_wolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles broke-up with Derek months ago when he caught him kissing someone else, and has been miserable since.</p><p>When Stiles sees Derek kiss someone else at a party, that's the last straw, but when Derek follows Stiles into an empty room, they have it out, and discover things weren't what they thought they were, and there just might be hope for their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talking Does Wonders For Ones Happiness

When Derek pulled back from the blonde and caught Stiles’ eye, Stiles glared even harder, then downed the rest of his beer and then tossed it on the floor and stalking off, not sticking around to see Derek’s reaction to _that._

But he didn’t have to wait long.

Stiles stalked down the hallway of the huge house, some frat house on campus, and then he heard Derek calling his name sharply. 

Stiles was a little wobbly on his feet, and his vision blurred several times, telling him that he was drunk, but he managed to get to a room in time to thrust open the door.

He didn’t really give the two dudes making out shirtless on the bed much thought. Just jumped on the bed in the space left and groaned in part satisfaction and part utter frustration because of Derek fucking Hale.

“What the fuck!” One of the guys said as they broke apart at the sound of the door opening and seeing Stiles dump himself onto the bed next to them.

“Don’t mind me,” Stiles said, voice muffled by the pillow, lifting a hand to wave it at them. “Do what you wanna do. I won’t bother ya.”

“Look man, we’re not into voyeurism.”

“Stiles!” 

“I won’t be watching,” Stiles said at the same time that Derek’s voice sounded from the doorway, seeming to be seething where he stood. 

Stiles felt the rage that had been building in him all night - which had been momentarily quelled as he’d laid there - return, and he flipped onto his back, except, flipping onto his back meant flipping over onto the floor with a thud. 

“Ow.” Stiles said simply at the two guys sat up and looked over the edge of the bed at him. Derek was glaring at Stiles, swaying slightly where he stood. How Derek could still seem completely sober while drunk, Stiles would never know.

“Stiles, we need to talk.”

“We don’t need to do shit-”

“We’re outta here,” One of the guys said, and they both grabbed their shirts from the floor and brushed past Derek quickly, and he didn’t bother to spare them a glance, stepping into the room and _slamming_ the door shut behind him.

Stiles jumped. 

“We need to talk,” Derek repeated, and Stiles felt his blood boil.

“Fuck you, Derek,” Stiles said, words slurring together as he jumped up from the floor and _oh, was that a mistake,_ Stiles thought as he stumbled into the side of the bed and then onto it. Stiles grunted in annoyance. He’d had too many beers to handle the conversation that was coming.

“No, Stiles, fuck you,” Derek spat. “You don’t get to look at me like that.”

“Like what? I wasn’t looking at you like anything!” Stiles said, trying to stand again, and Stiles felt a sharp pain in his chest at the fact that Derek just stood there, arms crossed over his chest, not bothering to help Stiles stand up straight. A few months ago, he would have, and he would have done it with a smile on his face, eyes soft, touch gentle. 

_Goddamn it._

“The fuck you weren’t,” Derek practically growled, eyes burning with anger and hatred and resentment and Stiles’ only defense was to hate Derek right back. “You don’t get to look at me like-”

But Derek stopped short, and Stiles held his breath.

“L-like what?” Stiles said, and he cursed himself as the words came out stuttered and slurred and not anywhere near coherent sounding. Fuck, Stiles was so drunk. “Like what?” Stiles repeated when Derek said nothing. “Like what, Derek?” Stiles practically shouted, and Derek stepped forward, one step closer to Stiles, but it still felt like there was an ocean between them.

“Like I betrayed you!” Derek shouted, words coming out a little slurred, but mostly clear and sober-sounding. Damn him and his tolerance for alcohol. Stiles saw him drink at least six beers that night. Which meant it had been a long fucking night. “Like I was breaking your heart kissing someone else!”

Stiles scoffed, rolling his eyes. It had felt like Derek had betrayed him and it definitely felt like his heart _was_ breaking, but Derek didn’t need to know that. Stiles was as cool as a cucumber. He was fine. Everyone was a-okay. Stiles was cool. Everything was fine.

Fine.

“Believe me, you weren’t,” Stiles sneered. “I was _glaring_ at you. That is not a look someone gets when they’re ‘heartbroken’,” and Stiles put air quotes around the word heartbroken, rolling his eyes again, but this time he kinda…went with is eyes and stumbled, having to catch himself on the knightstand, and Derek’s features just hardened. 

“You broke up with me, Stiles,” Derek said, voice quiet and controlled, which meant he was probably two seconds away from snapping. “You broke my heart, without any explanation, and then the next day, you already moved onto the next guy!” Derek looked hurt, then, his eyes filling with tears, but then he blinked rapidly and looked away.

Stiles was gaping, his mind taking awhile to process this. _What._ Derek was full of such bullshit, like usual.

“You didn’t seem to be too broken up about it,” Stiles growled, his own control close to snapping. Derek became quiet and controlled when he was furious, and Stiles growled. Loudly. 

“What did you want me to do?” Derek sneered, and Stiles was breathing quickly, his heart racing. “ _Pine_ for you?”

Stiles glared, stalking up to Derek and getting in his face. To Derek’s credit, he didn’t even flinch. Barely even moved. “Well lets face it, Derek, that’s all you ever really did. _Pine_ for me,” Stiles said harshly, almost spitting in Derek’s face, and Stiles was lying, he was so lying, and yet he kept going, if only to hurt Derek, hurt him as much as Stiles was hurting. “The whole time we were together, you always liked me more, and everyone knew it. Everyone looked at you and pitied you, ya know. I could barely stand you-” Lie. _Such a lie._ “-and honestly, I just kept you around because you were a good fuck.” Stiles felt himself grinning, but it wasn’t one of joy. It was ugly, hurtful, mean. 

Derek’s face barely wavered the whole time Stiles talked, and his defenses lowered for one moment to let the hurt, raw and painful, show, and Stiles stumbled even though he hadn’t moved, into Derek, and their breaths were mingling together, Stiles’ harsh, fast, ragged. 

Stiles tried not to feel guilty, to not feel horrible. Derek had been the one to cheat on him. Stiles had seen the kiss with his own two eyes. And the girl had been gorgeous. Stiles shouldn’t have been surprised, shouldn’t have been so hurt, but he had been. He’d been completely and utterly heartbroken. And he could barely look at Derek later that night to tell him it was over as anger had come to mask the hurt, and Derek had been pleading, asking what he did, and Stiles wasn’t going to do it. He wasn’t going to deal with Derek’s bullshit. His manipulations.

When Derek had grabbed Stiles’ arm as he headed for the door in some desperate plea to get him to stay, Stiles had lashed out, swinging around and punching Derek in the face. 

Derek had looked so shocked, staggering back, so fucking _hurt_ and heartbroken and devastated and Stiles hadn’t wanted to decipher those looks, didn’t want to let his confusion let him linger there and fall into Derek’s manipulative arms. Derek had no right to look at him so brokenly when Derek had been the one to break them. 

Stiles had stormed out without a backward glance four months ago.

Stiles’ life had been hell ever since. 

And he just wanted Derek to hurt the way he hurt. Because Derek had seemed so unaffected the next day when he saw him on campus, so cool and calm and collected, black eye prominent. Stiles had felt like utter shit for one second before he’d seen how Derek had looked at him, barely a flicker of interest or a flicker of _anything_ in his gaze and Stiles had understood then why it had been so easy for Derek to kiss someone else and just not fucking care - confusing behavior the day before not withstanding. Because he didn’t care about Stiles at all. Didn’t love him. He’d just been convenient for Derek. 

And that had hurt worst of all, that fact. It had twisted his gut and made his heart clench, the pain in his chest not going away, and Stiles had just turned to the first cute guy he saw, hissed, “go with it” and kissed the guy, right where Derek could see. So that maybe, just maybe, Derek could muster up a fuck to give. 

Stiles barely even spared the guy a glance when he pulled away, especially after he saw that Derek was gone. 

Derek had completely and utterly broken Stiles’ heart. And it hurt more than words could possibly describe. 

Stiles wanted Derek to feel that hurt. Even if it meant making up a lie that Derek had even liked Stiles at all and that Stiles had been the uncaring asshole just using the other for sex. 

Which, if Stiles hadn’t been drunk, he would realize didn’t make much sense. If Derek didn’t care about him, why would saying that affect him?

But Stiles wasn’t sober, and so the words slipped out, and anyway, they seemed to have worked, for a split second at least. 

And now the air was silent between them, but thick, tense, suffocating. In reality, it was only a few seconds of silence. But it felt like an eternity. 

And then Derek took Stiles by the arms and spun them around to push Stiles up against the wall, hard, and all the breath wooshed out of Stiles as he gasped, and Derek was crowding into Stiles, hands slamming onto the wall on both sides of Stiles’ head, and Stiles jumped and gasped again as Derek leaned in close, oh so close. It seemed that Derek had finally snapped. 

“So I was just a good fuck, huh?” Derek said, his voice low and dangerous, sending a shiver down Stiles’ spine. The craziest thing was that that shiver was one of arousal, not fear. Stiles had _liked_ the rough manhandling. He liked the roughness of this whole encounter, the simmering passion of hatred and _something_ else that coated the air between them and their words. Stiles couldn’t believe that he could he feel himself getting hard in his shorts. “Well,” and it was Derek’s turn to smirk meanly. “If that’s all I was to you, then I guess that’s all I’m good for, huh? So let’s fuck, Stiles, how ‘bout it?” And then Derek grabbed the hair at the back of Stiles’ head and pulled, and Stiles moaned when he did, and then gasped when Derek went to Stiles’ exposed neck and bit down. 

“Huh?” Derek whispered, lips coming to Stiles’ ear, and his breathing was harsh, just as harsh as Stiles’, and Stiles felt his hands come up to rest on Derek’s shoulders, clingling onto them. “Is that what you want from me? A fuck?”

And then Derek was kissing Stiles savagely. His lips were hard against Stiles’, his teeth biting, his tongue unrelenting in Stiles’ mouth, and Stiles could only hold on for the ride, whimpering as Derek possessed him with his kiss. 

All rational thought flew out the window as Derek took Stiles by his thighs and hitched him up roughly, and Stiles moaned, wrapping his legs around Derek’s waist, holding on for dear life. 

Derek thrust against him, and he was just as hard as Stiles, and Sties gave in and just let go, grabbing onto Derek’s hair, onto his back, pulling up his shirt and then digging his nails into the freshly exposed skin there and scratching. Derek hissed, and then bit Stiles’ lower lip, and Stiles hissed as well. The thrusts didn’t stop. They only picked up in speed. 

It was rough, it was wild, it was a cumulation of all the hurt, hatred, and anger of the past few months, and they were crashing together, unable to stop themselves, unable to stay away from each other, despite it all. 

Stiles loved Derek. He was in love with the man, and he was barely anything to Derek. The pain was unbearable. 

“I lo-” Stiles started to say, then stopped himself, tears spilling out of his eyes, and then Derek was turning, stalking over to the bed and tossing Stiles onto it, and he was staring down at Stiles, anger and hurt and arousal clear in his features. 

“You want to come?”

Derek seemed to notice the tears, but only faltered for a moment before moving on top of Stiles and caging in him, surrounding him. 

Stiles felt both desperate for Derek to get closer and move away from him at the same time. 

“Why do you get to cry?” Derek whispered harshly, mouth hovering over Stiles’. “Why do you get to look heartbroken? Huh?”

“Why do you?” Stiles whispered, tears still spilling out of his eyes, and then Derek was grabbing his chin and kissing him roughly again, and Stiles couldn’t, wouldn’t pull away. He couldn’t ever dream of wanting to. 

He just wanted Derek. 

But Derek didn’t want him. 

But then why did he…? Look hearbroken? Why?

Stiles pushed Derek up by the chest, breaking the kiss that had barely been a kiss, more a meeting of lips desperate to hurt, to cause pain. “Why?” Stiles said, and he hated the choked sound of his voice. His vision wavered a little, and Stiles realized he was still a little drunk. 

He and Derek, at least at this moment in time, weren’t exactly happy drunks. But was Derek even remotely drunk anymore? He didn’t seem it. 

“What.” Derek stated, pushing Stiles’ shirt up and moving down to kiss his stomach, and then bite at it. And alternation between the sweet and the harsh. The soft and the hard. The love and the hate.

“Why are you hurting?” Stiles finally said, swallowing past the lump in his throat as a tears spilled down the side of his face and onto the mattress. 

Derek stopped at that, but kept his firm, bruising grip on Stiles’ hips - Stiles wanted him to hold him like that, just like that, while he fucked him, hard and unforgiving, but he banished those images as soon as they came. 

Now wasn’t the time.

Derek looked up at Stiles. 

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?”

“Yes.” Stiles said, and Derek pulled back - and took his hands along with him. He stood, and Stiles lay there, chest exposed, breath heaving, lip bleading. And still hard. 

Derek laughed, the sound nowhere near happy. “Stiles, you broke my fucking heart.”

Stiles was still so so fucking confused. “It sure looked broken out there when you were kissing that girl.”

Derek rolled his eyes and waved that away. “I only kissed her because you were there and I wanted to make you jealous.”

“Well then, mission accomplished,” Stiles ground out, glaring. “But how?” Stiles continued when Derek said nothing, did nothing, didn’t even look satisfied that he had succeeded at making Stiles jealous. “How did I break your heart?”

Derek looked incredulous. “You broke up with me out of nowhere. You punched me and then looked at me like it was my fucking fault that you did, that I had somehow deserved it. And then you moved on five minutes later. And have barely seemed to give two shits about me. That’s how.”

Stiles laughed, shaking his head. “Out of nowhere? Out of nowhere?” Stiles shouted as he stood up from the bed. “Derek, are you kidding me right now?”

Derek looked at Stiles like he was crazy. “No, Stiles, I’m not kidding you right now.” 

“You have absolutely no remorse or guilt, do you?” Stiles was shocked, incredulous, could hardly fucking believe it. 

Stiles was feeling pretty sober now. 

“Why would I?” Derek shouted, spreading his arms out and shrugging his shoulders in confusion. “Stiles, you obviously think I did something to you, I’m seeing that now, but I have no idea what.”

“What, are you fucking-” Stiles shook his head. He couldn’t believe this. He couldn’t belive he’d just been out of his mind trying to kiss Derek, to touch Derek, to fuck Derek, to get anything he could of him. Fuck Derek Hale. He hated him. “Derek, you fucking cheated on me!”

Derek reeled back at that, looking like Stiles had punched him again, eyes wide and shocked and confused. “What?” Derek shouted back.

“I saw you, Derek! I fucking saw you with some woman, okay!” The tears were back now, and Stiles couldn’t stop them. “I saw you kiss her!”

“What are you talking about, I didn’t kiss anyone, Stiles!” Derek said. 

“Why are you still denying it?” Stiles said, crying, shouting. He was a complete mess. 

“I’m not denying anything,” Derek said desperately, shoving into Stiles’ personal space. Stiles could barely breathe. “I swear to fucking god, Stiles, I never kissed anyone else when were together. I never touched anyone else, didn’t even think about it.” 

“I know what I saw,” Stiles said, glaring. He wasn’t blind.

“What did this supposed woman look like?” Derek asked, still looking as confused as ever.

What. Was Derek serious right now?

“I don’t fucking know, tall, black hair, drop dead gorgeous. Blue eyes, thin nose, sharp cheekbones…” Stiles trailed offf, and he realized he’d been remembering that moment over and over for a long time, and so many times, that he knew pretty well what she had looked like. 

Stiles had seen them lean into each other, saw them lean in so very close to each other. The kiss hadn’t been a long one, maybe three, five seconds, but it had still be a kiss, Stiles was sure of it. And she had pulled back smiling, perfect white teeth flashing brilliantly. She’d looked so happy, kissing someone else’s boyfriend. Stiles had hated her for that, almost more than for the kiss itself. 

“Stiles, where did you see this?” Derek asked very, very quietly, but it wasn’t his quietly controlled voice. This was his figuring-something-out-slowly-but-surely voice.

“At the coffee shop,” Stiles snapped. 

And then Derek…Derek kind of just, looked at Stiles, eyes wide, and well, look who fucking remembered it now. 

But Derek just…he just….laughed.

He fucking laughed. 

At first it sounded like he was actually amused, but then it seemed to turn slightly hysterical. 

“What the fuck, Derek?” Stiles snapped, angry and hurt and humiliated. 

“Sti-Stiles, oh my god,” Derek laughed, and there were tears in his eyes when he looked at Stiles. “Stiles, Stiles, Stiles,” Derek said, laughing, shaking his head, walking up to Stiles and cupping his cheeks, and Stiles tensed, glared, didn’t dare move. 

“Stiles…” Derek whispered, finally calming down enough. “We just waisted four months of our lives over this.”

“What.”

Now it was Stiles’ turn to say it like a statement.

“Stiles, that…” Derek gasped a little, some laughter still bubbling up. “Stiles, that was my fucking sister.”

And then Stiles just froze, eyes widening. Everything came crashing to a halt. And Stiles suddenly felt like he was slowing down to look at the wreckage of his life from the past four months, looking at the goriness, all the hurt, all the pain, all the suffering. And all because he’d been too busy talking on his cellphone to pay attention to the road, basically. Or because he hadn’t bothered to communicate with the other drivers.

“What?” 

“Stiles, that was my sister Laura. We hadn’t seen each other in almost a year. And we were kissing each other’s cheeks, not our lips.”

Stiles couldn’t…he…but…wait, what? “But, I saw-”

“From where?” Derek breathed. “Were you pretty far away that all you saw was our heads coming together? Too far away to see that it was on the cheek? What?”

And now…well, now that Stiles thought about it…

“Oh my fucking god,” Stiles whined, and he wrenched himself away from Derek, covering his face. He was such a fucking idiot. Oh fucking god. And then he’d…he’d punched Derek, oh holy shit. And he’d kissed someone else.

_He’d kissed someone else._

“Oh god, I’m the cheater!” Stiles gasped loudly, starting to feel the panic creep in. The self-hatred. “I kissed someone else. I punched you. I broke up with you. I’m the bad guy here. Oh fuck, I’m the biggest moron-” 

“Stiles,” Derek said, coming forward, and Stiles shook his head, crying. 

He’d ruined everything, and for what? Because he couldn’t have taken a few seconds to hear what Derek had to say? Because he had to jump to conclusions? 

“Stiles, you didn’t cheat on me. We were broken up-”

“Under false pretenses!” Stiles gasped, lowering his hands and looking at Derek. He could barely stand to see the raw hurt that resided on his face. Stiles’ heart clenched painfully. “You hadn’t done anything, and I-I-I-” 

“Stiles.”

“I ruined everything,” Stiles whimpered, falling onto the bed. He was practically sobbing now. 

“Not-not everything,” Derek said tentatively, and he moved to sit next to Stiles. He slowly took Stiles’ left hand in his, and Stiles clung to his hand pathetically. He would take anything of Derek he could get right then. 

“Derek, I’m so…I’m so so fucking sorry,” Stiles whispered, looking up at him. “I let my insecurities get the best of me. I felt hurt and so I lashed out and didn’t even stop to ask you-”

“Stiles, you…you should have trusted me,” Derek murmured, and Derek sounded hurt all over again. 

Stiles flinched, looking away. He should have.

He fucking should have.

“I punched you,” Stiles gasped out, turning back to Derek, and he moved into Derek, not even thinking, and brought his hand up to touch where the bruise had resided on Derek’s left eye for a good five days. Stiles felt like the scum of the earth. “I’m a horrible person-”

“Stiles, you had misunderstood,” Derek whispered, shaking his head. “If I really had cheated on you, you would have had every right to punch me.”

“But you didn’t,” Stiles whimpered, tears falling. “Fuck, how can you ever forgive me?”

And Derek didn’t say that he already did. He didn’t absolve Stiles of his sins. He just sighed and took Stiles’ hand again. 

“I don’t know. But…but I would like to try.”

Stiles gasped, and he shot forward to kiss Derek on impluse, as if it was as natural as breathing, and Derek stopped Stiles with a hand over his mouth. Stiles jolted, remembering himself. 

“Sorry, s-sorry,” Stiles stuttered, shooting away from Derek. 

“Stiles, if we…if we do this,” Derek said, keeping ahold of Stiles’ hand, and Stiles felt like he could weep with joy over that small contact. “We’ll have to go slow.”

“Absolutely,” Stiles said, nodding frantically. He’d messed everything up, he’d ruined everything because he’d been too stubborn and too pig-headed to sit down and listen to the one person he should have listened to. The one person he should have trusted the most. 

Stiles felt like crying all over again. Stiles knew, right then, that it would take some time to forgive himself, too. 

“And I don’t…I don’t forgive you yet. But Stiles, I love you. I always have,” Derek said, and Stiles choked on his sobs, made himself keep them at bay. “And I’m not quite prepared to give up on you.”

“Me too,” Stiles said. “I love you, too. And I’m the biggest fucking moron on the planet.”

“I won’t deny that,” Derek said, a good-humored smile on his face, and Stiles let out a shaky breath. “So,” Derek started. “Let’s just…let’s just try to be friends again, first of all.” 

Stiles nodded frantically. Anything, he would take anything Derek would give him, if just to have him back in his life. 

“So no kissing, no sex, no cuddling, no…boyfriendly stuff.”

“No romance, got it,” Stiles nodded. Nothing sexual, either. They would have to rebuild their relationship now, from the ground up. And not have it be what it once was. But something new, something different. And hopefully something better with a more solid ground and a better foundation. 

“And what happened here tonight,” Derek looked around the room, and Stiles flashed back to Derek’s lips on his, his erection rubbing against his, to Derek on top of him, touching him, biting him, making him feel-

Stiles cleared his throat, shaking his head. He had to put that out of his head for now. 

“It wasn’t…it was really rough and-”

“I liked it,” Stiles said, and then bit his lip to keep his words in. Fuck.

Derek smiled for a just a moment and then sighed, looking away. “But it wasn’t right,” Derek said, looking pained. “We were miscommunicating, we had completely different outlooks on the situation, and we saw each other differently. If we’re ever that rough again, I want to not be hating you when I do it. And I want it to be happily consented to.”

Stiles nodded, feeling warmth spread through him.

“Not that it’s gonna happen anytime soon,” Derek warned, seeing a look pass over Stiles’ face.

Stiles let out a shaky laugh. “Right, I know.”

“So…friends,” Derek said. 

“Friends,” Stiles said, grinning over at Derek, who smiled back. Then Stiles leaned forward, then cursed himself when he realized he had been going into kiss Derek again. “Damnit,” Stiles cursed and Derek laughed, looking at Stiles almost fondly. 

Stiles felt his heart pound. 

“But no being with other people before we get to that place again, right?” Stiles asked, trying not to let himself dare to hope. 

“Yes, Stiles. A monogamous friendship.”

Stiles laughed. Only them, huh? 

“Right.”

Derek sighed and then stood, turning to look down at Stiles. “Wanna get out of here?”

Stiles’ heartbeat sped up again, and he had to swallow heavily to force himself _not_ to react that way. _Friends friends friends._ He could do this. He could so do this. And he would do it, for Derek. 

Derek cursed, then, realizing what he said and how he said it, laughing at himself. “Guess this won’t be just happening to you.”

Stiles laughed, feeling lighter than he had in months, taking Derek’s offered hand, and then forcing himself not to be disappointed when Derek dropped it as they headed toward the bedroom door. 

Nothing had been magically resolved. Stiles still felt a pain in his chest, although it felt like it had lightened a little, that it was less suffocating. And he and Derek weren’t back together, the hurt was still there, and the trust still needed to be built. Any trust they had right then was fragile, and Stiles didn’t want it to feel like that. He wanted the trust between them to be firm, hard, unwavering, absolute. 

And they would get there one day. Stiles was determined of that. Because if they hadn’t been solid enough the first time that he took a familial kiss on the cheek the wrong way and thought the worst of Derek before he could even get a word out, then they hadn’t - or Stiles hadn’t - trusted the other completely, and they needed to in order for their relationship to work. 

So if that meant they were just friends for the months and months to come, or even longer than that, or if they were friends for the next decade, come to that, Stiles would be happy with that. 

Because he would wait forever for Derek, if he had to, Stiles had come to realize.

Derek was worth it.


End file.
